I’m going to whine. With all the stuff I have to do– find a job in Seattle, find an apartment there, relocate my little household, sell Jerry’s car, get Bear ready to leave for China, and just carry on with daily life–this is what’s bothering me. Being alone, not just for now but the rest of my days.
I don’t mean absolutely alone, not 100%, I hope to make friends over time. I am embarrassed to admit I am unhappy and disappointed that my romantic life is over. It ended when Jerry died.
This isn’t without precedent; my two aunts and my great-grandmother were widows who lived long satisfying lives years after their husbands died and did not remarry. I hope to do the same. It will take time, among other things, but I am trying to make my peace with it. So far it isn’t taking hold. I’m realistic and know that I’m an old broad and I don’t want to take care of an old man, to be a nurse and a drudge. I don’t want to be one of those desperate old women who will chase anything male and breathing in pants. I’ll spend my days (and nights) with a skittish Chihuahua instead. It will be the best thing, the right thing.
I’ve heard stories about older people marrying, finding love and all that crap. I’m glad for them but I know it’s not me.
The main reason is I had a good run with Jerry. He loved me, he put up with me and accepted me. He was a good father even though he had a horrible father himself. He was a good husband and he tried, he even told me I was beautiful when I darned well knew I wasn’t. I put up with some stuff too but he was the better and more tolerant one.
No one else will love me like he did. No one will treat me as kindly, with the same respect and be as good to me as he was. No one will be able to stand up to Bear’s scrutiny or compare to his father.
I know this the same way I know I’m meant to be alone. It’s my natural state, really. But even so I’m not accepting it gracefully. Which surprises me, not my lack of graceful behavior but that this is such a big freaking deal. It shouldn’t be, I have longed for my freedom and independence from having to take care of Jerry and to do as I pleased. Now I got it and I’m not happy with it. What is up with that? Being old and alone is not unusual and somewhat expected. I knew this day would come but I did not expect to have this reaction to it. My ego kind of wants someone to tell me
nah, this isn’t it for you
,” but I wouldn’t believe it if they did.
I don’t feel jealous when I see couples in public. I don’t mind doing things or going places alone. Sometimes I prefer it.
What I do want is a partner, someone who will have my back, who I can trust and talk to, who gets my jokes and laughs anyway. Somebody I can feel comfortable around. Somebody who genuinely cares about and for me. My hormones have their requirements too, specific ones that are difficult to fill especially for an old broad. If I was an old broad with a ton of money and no shame, well maybe (see Madonna and Drake).
I will come to that point where I finally accept being alone and be all right with it. I don’t expect to be overjoyed but a plain resignation on my part is enough, to make my peace with the fact that this is how things are then get on with the rest of life. To be honest this is really just a small part of it. I need to remember that.